This Thing Needs a Title

Two posts in two days--I think this may be a JHC record! So, I started writing this novel while I was at the beach and I like it. Not just like it, I think I may be obsessed. And I'm feeling pretty cheesy at moments when I begin to admit that I like it that much. I've farmed it out to a few close friends and my husband for thoughts and opinions and the general consensus has been great, however, I'm still not convinced. I am obsessed with it, but is it just because it's mine and I'm too close? I've always wanted to have the ability to write for a living, which is why I probably chose to major in Literature in the first place--duh. But after reading classmates writings and continually reading outstanding classic and modern pieces, I never felt worthy enough to really & truly try. That changed last week at the beach and now I struggle with the true "goodness" of it versus the fact that I finally had the balls to do it. Either way, I'll keep writing. I'll write it for me and the characters that I've created to give them a life, however dysfunctional those lives may be. But really, immediately in line after those reasons is the truth--I want to publish a good book and make a living sitting at the beach or in my kitchen with coffee and cigarettes writing characters that I give a shit about.

I know I'll never be a Woolf or Dickens or Fitzgerald--I'm not that delusional. But somewhere in between a Conroy and a Woolf would be just grand, oh, and selling a gazillion copies would be pretty damn spectacular. I think part of the reason why I avoid serious fiction writing is that it's hard. Every other thing that I have attempted in my life has come to me fairly quickly and easily and as I tell my husband, really, I'm lazy. I know that I'm a Type A on a lot of levels and I'm persistent and driven, blah, blah, blah. But truly, I've always run from things that I don't like or that challenge me to the point of really having to use my brain. And more than that, I don't like to fail. I'm not used to it and I take it personally. So as I'm on page 17 of my latest adventure, I have to ask myself, can you hack 60+ rejections like Kathryn Stockett and keep going? Well, honestly, I don't know--I've never tried before.

So I think I'll continue to write the best damn book that I'm capable of at this moment in my life and see where it takes me. At the very least, I will have tried and entertained a few friends along the way, and then I will have to reconcile everything else with myself, which will probably include several break down sobbing moments and a few or more vodka drinks. But really, this whole experience may bring me more than I bargained for, and that's patience and a continuous building of character. In the grander scheme of cliches, is that really all that bad?